I can be reached at my husband's e-mail address,
sratliff@zoomnet.net.
Please reference the story title or my name in the subject line.

*****

Disclaimers and Copyright Notice:

The characters and situations of the TV program "SPACE:
Above and Beyond" are the creations of Glen Morgan and James
Wong, Fox Broadcasting and Hard Eight Productions, and have been
used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

Marcy, Jimmy Avery, Anita Moore, Lisa Yamauchi, Kenneth Martin
Lucas, Georgeanne Jeffords and all other characters not belonging
to Glen Morgan and James Wong, Fox Broadcasting and Hard Eight
Productions, are my creations and property. Permission is hereby
granted to use them in fan fiction, providing that the author
acknowledge my rights to them.

Corn grew very well on Groombridge 4. That was the reason for the
colony's existence here. Twenty years ago, all of the workers
here had been In Vitroes. Soon after, the government had begun
indenturing felons here to pay off their debts to their victims.
Unlike the IVs, whose indenture was over after five years if they
could survive that long, the prisoners were here until they
worked off whatever settlement they were sentenced to pay. That
might be a month or two for a rich criminal, or a lifetime for a
poor one. The AIs had begun arriving after the Ho Chi Mihn City
accords. Marcy had been here in Agro Camp #7 for five years.

At first, it had been very hard. As one of the few AIs here not
infected with the Stranahan virus, she was in a great deal of
danger from those who were. The NB criminals hated the AIs and
the tanks, who could outwork them and kept the quotas high. The
IVs mistrusted her because they had learned that the Stranahan
AIs were not to be trusted, and they had no way to tell the
difference. She had learned quickly to be wary, circumspect, and
ruthless with anyone who threatened her. But gradually she had
earned the respect of the others. After a time, the colony's
predators began to see the new people as easier pickings, and
they left her alone for the most part. And so the last few years
had passed, long weeks of boredom punctuated by the occasional
episode of sheer terror.

Things had changed about a month ago, and it was all because of a
needle and thread. She had ripped her uniform and asked for
sewing things to mend it. It had seemed such a simple request,
but the guard had been suspicious. He knew most AIs didn't care
if their clothes were torn, and he thought she had some nefarious
plan for the needle -- like poking him in the eye with it, or
something. She had thought she had managed to talk her way out of
it when the overseer had sent her back to the barracks unharmed.
Nothing more had been said about the incident, and she had taken
care not to attract any more attention.

Then a couple weeks ago, she had noticed a man watching her as
she worked. At first, she had paid attention only to the business
suit he was wearing and taken him for an Aerotech inspector. But
then a couple days later, she had seen him again, this time in
the company of two Marine officers. But they hadn't done
anything, just watched her. The whole thing was very curious, and
very ominous...change was likely to be trouble!

She had seen service people around since the war had started. She
knew little for certain about the war. At first there had been
wild rumors among the prison population that chig POWs were going
to be sent here. As the months had dragged on, there had been
more rumors...that they were winning, that they were losing, that
Earth had fallen and Groombridge was going to be wiped out just
like two other colonies. That one had nearly started a panic and
a riot ... fortunately the governor of the colony himself had
convinced everyone that the rumor was unfounded. Then a few days
ago she'd overheard some of guards celebrating because the war
was supposedly over, that the chigs were either offering or
accepting terms of surrender -- depending on who she was
listening to at the time. Apparently that had been just another
rumor, because surely if the war really was over they would have
heard something official about it by now. Still, the rumors broke
the monotony. Marcy hoped for an end to the war, but she had been
a prisoner in peacetime and a prisoner in wartime. Since her
personal situation was unlikely to change either way, the war
seemed very far away most of the time.

The job she had right now wasn't too bad, she drove a picker.
June was harvest time here, and the crop had been a good one. She
was taking a full trailer load back to the granary. When she
arrived and turned in her load they sent her to the office. Along
with the foreman were the man in the suit and the two Marines.

The foreman told her shortly, "You've been reassigned. Go
with these people."

She didn't like the looks of the man in the suit. As she had
suspected, he was an Aerotech man, though probably not a mere
inspector after all, his watch and the diamond ring he was
wearing were too expensive-looking for that. The two Marines
obviously disapproved of her on principle. One of them was a
brigadier general named Jeffords, she was a tall woman with gray
hair and a harsh, weathered look about her. The other, somewhat
younger, was a full Colonel named Penderson. He was looking at
her as if she were a rather disgusting lab specimen. He
immediately went straight to the top of her list of People Likely
to be Trouble.

They took her out a side door, and she got into a humvee with the
two Marines and their driver. She fell back on the same tactics
that she had found kept her out of most trouble with the
guards... keeping her eyes downcast and speaking only if spoken
to.

They took the turn to the airstrip. An ISSCV and its escort of
fighters waited there. General Jeffords turned to the driver and
said, "Inform the Major that I'd like to take off as soon as
possible, and find out how soon we can raise ship."

"Yes, ma'am!" He headed for a corrugated metal building
at the edge of the strip. Jeffords got out of the humvee, she
still moved with an easy, fluid grace despite her years. Without
a backward glance, she headed for the ISSCV.

Penderson turned to Marcy. "Come on, you."

She followed them. General Jeffords was speaking to one of her
pilots when they came aboard the ISSCV. Marcy was very aware of
the hostile looks she was getting from all the Marines present.
After a few minutes, the Lieutenant returned and reported,
"Major Talbot says we can take off at your convenience,
General."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Let's get these birds in the air --
wheels up in ten mikes. Secure the prisoner."

"Yes, ma'am!"

She was locked into one of the small cargo bays at the rear of
the vehicle. They lifted off presently, and Marcy left her life
as a prisoner behind her forever.

Once they were safely away from Groombridge, she was escorted
back out to the main bay. General Jeffords waved her to a seat
across the table, which she took. "I'm sure you're wondering
what's going on."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

Jeffords snapped, "Look at me and speak up when you answer
me! I've looked plenty of AIs in the face before, I'm not going
to blow your head off because I see crosshairs instead of baby
blues, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" She looked up, tried to read the
expression in the General's eyes. Even if she had been given to
the Stranahan AIs' penchant for gambling, she wouldn't have
wanted to play cards with this woman.

Jeffords nodded. "You might just do. What's your name?"

"Marcy S387. Ma'am." Marcy fought the urge to fidget.
If she had been human, she was sure her mouth would have been too
dry to speak. Through all the scrapes she'd gotten into and out
of, she had never been so thoroughly frightened in her life as
she was just sitting across the table from this woman.

"Okay, Marcy S387, tell me your life story."

She said, "I was activated in 2046 and sold to Crosswell
Industries, I was in the secretarial pool there until the war
started. Crosswell sold off all its AIs at an auction, I was
bought by Delgado Salvage and then in 2058 I was sold to some
prospectors. In 2059 their ship was damaged in a fight with
pirates in the Timorra system. They left us there--myself and
Tina C8038. Tina was killed by the pirates. A Marine named Major
McQueen was also captured, I helped him escape and turned myself
in to him. From there I was sent to Groombridge Agro-7, until
now."

"Why did you help Major McQueen?"

"Because...he wouldn't have been caught at all if he hadn't
been trying to make sure his friend got away. Another Marine. I
don't know her name, ma'am. And the pirates were going to kill
him just like they killed Tina. I had to do
something!"

"I...see. And why did you turn yourself in? You could have
run away."

"There was nowhere to run to, ma'am. There's nothing on
Macauley's World, except a few little mining camps ... and the
miners would have shot me as soon as they'd seen me. The only
chance I had was to turn myself in."

"And you trusted Major McQueen not to do the same
thing?"

"I had to. There wasn't anything else I could do. But he
didn't seem like the kind of person who would shoot someone who
had surrendered."

Jeffords demanded, "Why are you so scared of me, do you
think I'm the kind of person who'd shoot a prisoner for
no damn reason?"

"You're one of only a few AIs that we've confirmed to be
fully sentient without having been exposed to the Stranahan
virus. I don't know how much you've heard about the war, but
things are not going as well for Earth as we might hope."

"I still don't understand what that has to do with me."

"Marcy, one reason that we're having trouble with the chigs
is that we don't understand them. On the other hand, they don't
show any signs of having that disadvantage where we're concerned.
The one thing that all AIs do better than humans is to gather
data and analyze it. The Stranahan AIs have always been limited
in their ability to interpret that data and react to new
situations."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You, on the other hand...you don't seem to have that
limitation. It's our hope that you'll be able to put that talent
at analysis to work where the chigs are concerned. The data and
insights you come up with may just help us turn this thing
around."

"I-- I don't know anything about chigs, or fighting a war.
But if there's anything I can do--"

"You haven't asked about the risks and the benefits."

"Well, you just implied we could be losing. If that happens,
nothing else would really matter as far as risks to me are
concerned. I wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell if the
Stranahan AIs win. They're all one big group, they don't want AIs
like me around who aren't loyal to that group. And I don't want
any part of that."

Jeffords nodded. "I thought you'd see it that way. What I'm
proposing is this, Marcy. We're going to set up an identity for
you as a civilian employee of the defense department, working as
an officer's aide on one of the carriers. Only the senior
officers of the carrier and the people you work with directly are
to know that you're an AI and what your real mission is. You'll
report regularly directly to me. After the war, we'll help you
keep that identity, or if it becomes necessary, we'll create a
new one for you. You'll have your freedom, Marcy."

Marcy asked, How the hell am I supposed to pretend to be a
human?! Everyone can tell just by looking--!

She heard Penderson stifle a laugh, and a grin slashed across the
Generals face. Believe me, Marcy, AIs have been
passing as humans for years! The targeting lenses have got to go,
but Ive seen plenty of spies do pretty damn well for
themselves without em. At that, Penderson did laugh
out loud.

"You'll be trusting me with a lot."

"And if you let me down, I swear I'll find you.
Personally." Jeffords stared Marcy straight in the eyes as
she said that, and Marcy believed every word of it.

"I'll do my best."

"Over the next few days, we'll have some preliminary data
for you on your new identity. As soon as we return to Earth,
we'll insert you into a group of new employees. You'll be
assigned to my office after that for a few weeks while we work
out the final details of the operation, then you'll get your real
assignment."

"Yes, ma'am."

(Loxley, Alabama, June 2064)

The recruit bus was hot and sticky even with the windows down.
After four years at MIT, Jimmy Avery had been well on his way to
a promising career as a software engineer. He had inherited his
dad's talent, there was very little he couldn't do with a
computer. After graduation, he'd been ready to write his own
ticket. His father's death at Groombridge had changed a lot of
things. Avery had volunteered for AFT a week after the funeral.

The kid sitting next to him was a black guy from Mobile, he
looked a few years younger than Jimmy. "Hey, college boy,
what you doin' here?"

Avery looked at him. The question had been framed as a challenge,
but he saw a friendly glint in the dark eyes that belied the tone
of voice. After a time he replied, "Payback."

"Whoa."

"My dad was a Marine. He was killed by AIs right after I
graduated from school. I'm gonna make 'em pay."

The three of them looked over at the bus' other occupant. She was
a big blond woman with a mean look in her eyes, she wore jeans
and a faded denim jacket and didn't look like she had too many
more belongings in the world. She stared back, riveting each of
them in turn. "What're you kids staring at? Never seen a
tank before?"

Avery replied, "I don't have a problem with you, unless you
want to start one."

She finally laughed, "No, I don't think I do. My name's
Anita Moore."

"So, why'd you volunteer?" Lucas asked her.

"As far as career choices go, I could push a broom or pick
vegetables for the rest of my life, or I could volunteer. The
Corps will pay for college."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have had to volunteer for AFT for
that."

Anita looked out into the distance. "No, I wouldn't have.
After I finished my indenture and they shipped me back to Earth,
I got a job as a janitor at the Marine Corps base at Dallas. One
day I decided I was tired of watching other people fly those
beauties, I want my turn."

The bus slowed to make the turn off the highway. Avery turned to
look out the window. It didn't look like the place had changed a
bit since hed first seen it as a little boy. Jimmy knew,
though, that was an illusion. Nothing would ever be the same
again.